Page 27 of The Villain
Slowly rising on shaking legs, she curled her hands into fists and met his gaze, refusing to be intimidated into looking away. “You are, by far, the most despicable man I have ever been forced to lay eyes upon.”
He laughed, the sound dry and humorless. His face almost appeared haunted, the color of his eyes so dark from this distance, they appeared fathomless.
“Poor Daphne,” he said in a tone tinged with regret. “You haven’t the slightest idea. The most despicable men you’ve ever known are the ones who claim to love you … the ones you trust to protect you. I almost pity you for the lesson you are about to learn.”
Outrage bristled her spine as she thought of her father, of dear Bertram, of her uncle who had taken his own life because of this man. How could she have forgotten that so quickly and allowed him to seduce her?
“Say what you will about the Fairchild men,” she ground out, her entire body fairly trembling with rage. “But they do not need to force a woman into their bed using tricks and bank drafts.”
Adam’s menacing smile appeared, the one that reminded her of the grimace of a lion. “No, they resort to brute force and threats to take what they want from the fairer sex.”
His words slapped her in the face, the accusation echoing through her mind so loudly, she could never hope to block it out. “How dare you? My father and brother—”
“Oh, not your father,” Adam amended quickly with a casual shrug. “Just Bertram. You know, the brother you braved disgrace and scandal to rescue.”
“No,” she whispered, shaking her head rapidly from side to side. “You’re lying.”
“Why would I?” he challenged, his hold tightening on the doorknob. His voice began to quake, the only hint of any emotion. “It would gain me nothing to lie to you.”
“It would!” she accused, unable to help that her voice had risen enough to echo from the high ceiling. “It would destroy my love for my brother, just as you have destroyed everything else!”
What he was accusing Bertram of was unconscionable, the complete opposite of her brother’s nature. No one knew him the way she did; they’d been the best of friends since she’d been old enough to follow him about, wanting to do all the things he did. And he’d let her … indulged her in a way no one else ever had. More than that, he’d never told her to be anyone other than who she was. Unlike her father or mother, he’d never tried to change her.
“Yes, that’s right, blame me … the heartless villain,” he taunted with a derisive snort. “It will not change what Bertram is … or the things he has done.”
Without another word, he quit the room, slamming the door so hard, the walls around her seemed to shake. Hands trembling, Daphne sank back down into her chair, ignoring her stinging bottom. Her head spun with the ramifications of what Adam had just revealed.
The things he’d said about her uncle had rung true, lining up with his penchant for over-imbibing and gambling. But this … it was not true. It simply made no sense. Her brother was a man the debutantes of London flocked to. Bertram could have had any woman he wanted for marriage, or in his bed.
It simply did not make sense for him to force anyone into anything when there existed so many who would do whatever he asked with nothing more than a sweetly whispered word and a smile. Just the thought of him losing everything had sent her from London to Scotland, seeking answers on his behalf. It was for him, above her uncle and father, that she had done this.
She simply refused to believe she’d risked ruin and her own body to avenge a rapist.
There must be some mistake … some rumor that cast Bertram in a bad light. Adam was wrong … he must be. And the moment she saw him again, she would tell him so.
CHAPTER SIX
aphne woke the next morning feeling as if her mouth had been stuffed with cotton. Her head pounded like the devil, and when she sat up in bed, the room began to spin. She could not remember how much Madeira she’d drunk the night before and did not know whether she suffered the aftereffects of overindulging or of encountering Adam. His accusations hung over her head like a cloud, the implications of what they could mean having kept her awake for most of the night. When she’d finally fallen asleep, it had been restless, her mind refusing to allow her peace in slumber now that Adam’s words had sowed themselves in her mind.
Finding a glass of water on her bedside table, she took it up and drained it, flopping back onto the pillows and pulling the blankets over her eyes. She drifted back to sleep for a while, relieved to find her dry mouth and pounding head less acute when she awoke the second time. Leaving the bed, she stretched and blinked as her eyes adjusted to the brightness of the sun streaming through her parted drapes.
Reaching for the dressing gown laid across the bench resting at the foot of her bed, she covered her thin nightgown and strode over to the writing desk. The inkwell, quill, and notes she’d jotted down concerning her uncle remained inside the drawer, but on the desk’s surface, she found a sealed envelope with her name scrawled across the front. She recognized the writing as Bertram’s, the seal on the back revealing itself to be his.
Her heart leapt into her throat and remained there as she swiftly broke the seal and retrieved the letter inside. Maeve must have delivered it while she slept, and its appearance here surely meant her father and brother were now aware of her location.
Sure enough, the letter had been written by her brother just the day before. Her eyes grew watery as she detected his familiar scent on the paper, his words swimming before her eyes. She missed him … just as she missed her parents and their home in London. Blinking to clear her vision, she focused upon the letter.
My dear sister,
Word has reached us concerning your whereabouts. While Father and I do not approve of you rushing off to Scotland and risking your reputation to confront Hartmoor, we certainly understand why you would do such a thing. Oh, Daphne, why would you put yourself within reach of that lecher? I’ve been fit to kill since Father read me that blackguard’s letter informing us he has you in his clutches. Nevertheless, he has reminded me that going after you would cause an even greater scandal. So, please know we will do everything we can here in London to keep gossip about your disappearance to a minimum. In the meantime, do what you must to return to us. We will be waiting with open arms when you make your way back home.
All my love,
Bertie.
Folding the slip of stationary, she lowered her head, her throat constricting so tight, she could hardly breathe past the sob lodged there. It hurt to know her brother would not come rushing to Scotland to save her; yet, even if he did, she would not wish to be rescued. She’d come here of her own free will and agreed to Adam’s shocking proposal all on her own. She was doing what needed to be done for the sake of her family, and she could not leave without the promised funds.
Bertram’s letter reminded her of Adam’s revelation the evening before, and she clenched her jaw at the thought. The man might hate her family, and the things he’d said about her uncle might prove true, but this … the very thought of her brother being the sort of man who would abuse a woman went against everything she knew about Bertram. It simply could not be true.
